


The Reformation of Daryl Dixon

by jaibhagwan



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oneshot, Porn with Feelings, Resolved Sexual Tension, gratuitous domestic fluff, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaibhagwan/pseuds/jaibhagwan
Summary: "Once upon a time, he thought he could withstand her. But he hadn’t understood what she was: a goddamn wrecking ball. His walls never stood a chance."
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Kudos: 32





	The Reformation of Daryl Dixon

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor do I receive any financial gain for my toiling efforts. I just make them do what I want.
> 
> Based on anon request: "please write fanfic, where Carol is trying to get Daryl into shower? (which later leads to lovemaking)"  
> That's not exactly what I wrote here, but hope they enjoy it anyway.
> 
> Dearest anon, whoever you are, I hope this keeps you warm on the shortest of nights. ~jb

Daryl doesn’t think she is serious. That is, perhaps, his most grievous error, he thinks in hindsight. He probably underestimates her cleverness and cunning, too, for that matter. But the plethora of mistakes and hesitations aside, he’s not sure he would change a damn thing about his relationship with Carol. Not even the horrible apocalypse that brought them together.

To be fair, Daryl could have done a lot of things differently. But change is something he just doesn’t like. Even when it’s good for him. Perhaps it’s his stubborn denial—or destiny itself if he believed in that sort of crap—that finally delivers him exactly where he needs to be to force the confrontation.

He simply goes about his day, thinking nothing of her snippy comment that she’d hose him down if he didn’t take a shower—make an effort to cooperate. He knows Carol has been on edge since they arrived in Alexandria, and he's been giving her a wide berth to help her adjust and settle in, hoping it helps her find some peace of mind. Even if she thinks she doesn't deserve it. She wants to make a good impression, even dolled up in that ridiculous floral sweater, playing the role of a friendly neighborhood busybody to earn the settlement's trust. Although it feels like she's still got one foot out the door.

It’s the mask of pretense she dons almost naturally that concerns him because she hasn't been acting like herself for a while. Not since they reunited. A fragment of her former self, he’s noticed that she's been drifting, fluttering at the edges of their group, and spending way too much time alone for his comfort. At first, he thinks it’s normal for her to want some privacy after how impossible it had been on the road. And he hopes that by giving her time she will come around. But she hasn’t yet. And he doesn't know what the hell to do about it. He's been too afraid that whatever he does will ruin whatever tenuous hold he has on her, and she'll simply disappear.

So, he does what comes naturally and ignores the pain of his inadequacy by venturing past Alexandria's walls to fulfill more attainable duties. Hunting and keeping people fed, that’s all he thinks about when he sees the boar and tracks it through the woods. He doesn’t expect to be ganged up on, targeted by it’s mate and chased for the better part of the afternoon, slipping uselessly in the mud and bruising his ego. He’s lucky to escape with his life by hiding up in that tree until the boars get distracted and wander off, finally leaving him alone.

Still, he feels like a fool when he returns to Alexandria empty-handed. It certainly doesn't help when Michonne smirks at him as he makes his walk of shame through the gate. “Better not let Carol catch you,” she calls to him, alerting the whole town that he's a huge disappointment. Sneering, he flips her the bird and keeps walking. 

When he gets to the house, Carol is sitting in a sunbeam on the porch steps, enjoying a cup of tea. Fortunately, she's shed that hideous soccer Mom getup she'd been wearing earlier for a plain cotton henley in a muted brown that makes her blue eyes pop and sparkle, and looks more like herself than she has in weeks. But she frowns when she sees him, putting the mug down on the step as she stands and shakes her finger at him.

“Oh, no. You’re not going into the house looking like _that_.”

“Like what?”

“Looks like you’ve been rolling around in the mud.”

“I _slipped_. But don’t worry, I’m _fine_.” It's the combination of his injured pride and her lack of concern for him that makes him prickly, so he scowls at her.

“That’s good, because you’re gonna take off those muddy boots. I won’t have you tracking it all over the house.”

“Fine!” He relents with a huff, flopping onto the steps. 

Carol steps away as he bends forward, taking off his boots and socks, griping sullenly to himself. She returns with a garden hose as he stands barefoot on the steps.

Daryl narrows his eyes. “What the hell—”

“Don’t act so surprised,” she chides him. “I did warn you.”

“Pfft,” he says dismissively and turns to go inside. But she sprays him anyway, the frigid water making his back stiffen automatically. “Aaaahhhh!” It's embarrassing how shrill the sound of his own voice becomes as the cold water drips aggravatingly down his backside, adding salt to his wounded pride.

Carol grins at his misery, waving the gushing stream back and forth across him. “Come, now. Let me get that mud off you!”

Exasperated, he stomps down the steps towards her, bracing himself against the stream.

Carol feigns left, then dodges right as he chases her. 

“Turn off the fuckin’ hose, Carol,” he demands, his voice surly.

“Not a chance.” 

“Hey!” He flinches, a snarl at his lips as she sprays him in the face. “Would you stop?” Despite his whining, Daryl remains unrelenting in his pursuit. Finally, he succeeds as his fingers clamp around the hose, and he yanks it, making Carol stumble forward. Seizing the opportunity, he spins her around, tangling her up, and tugs her towards him. They struggle for control of the nozzle. Overpowering her, Daryl wrests it from her grasp and shoots her with the water to give her a taste of her own medicine.

She shrieks, pushing away from him, but the tangled hose slows her escape.

“How d’you like that, huh?” He sprays her again, getting a kick out of her reaction, and the intensity of his anger fades away.

Giggling, Carol tries to steal it back from him. Her laughter is an infectious catalyst, sparking a warm feeling in his chest, and he can't help but laugh with her. But there’s a sense of competition quickly kindling in his veins, and he values having the upper hand, so he refuses to let her win. Pulling the nozzle, he releases another satisfying burst, soaking her. Amused by the way she is hollering and jumping around the front lawn as he pumps the nozzle, Daryl savors the sweetness of his vengeance which begins to revive his pride. Her reaction spurs him on until she is completely drenched.

Her wet shirt clings to her body, giving him ample view of the exact shape of her breasts. The tight peaks of her nipples protrude through the flimsy fabric like tiny pebbles, leaving very little to his imagination. Something hot and needful pricks him low in his gut. While he's distracted, she grabs the nozzle again and almost pries it from him. But at the last moment, Daryl seizes it with his other hand, trapping her between his arms. Carol pushes against him, trying to free herself. But the more she squirms, the more he finds he enjoys it. He tightens his arms around her, barring her escape. She bumps and slides and presses against him with just the right amount of friction—

A torrent of heat suddenly rushes below his belt. It's a sensation he's not expecting—feeling himself grow hard, and Daryl instantly releases her, pushing her away. “Knock it off!” He feels so ashamed. This is Carol, afterall. His best friend. And he cherishes her with the utmost reverence for all they have survived together. But this—this feeling is something else entirely. It's dangerous and feral, like something clawing at him from the inside, desperately seeking to be released.

Dripping water, he glares at her, trying to catch his breath. But he can’t keep his eyes from roaming over all the noticeable curves of her body. The arresting sight of her standing there, her wet clothes hugging her tightly, makes his entire body seize up.

“It’s just water, Daryl,” she says, unruffled by his anger. When she pulls at the wet fabric of her shirt, it dips lower on her chest, revealing her cleavage. 

A coil of tension winds tighter in his groin as he watches her wring it out, and still frozen, his mouth hangs open, drying at the sight of her creamy skin. Meanwhile, an expanding ache burns in his chest. It's almost like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

When Carol notices where his gaze has landed, she smirks and then takes a step closer. “See something you like?” she teases.

His breathing becomes labored as his heart lurches and stutters in his chest and his face turns fifty shades of scarlet; he knows he’s in the wrong. It’s disrespectful the way he’s gawking at her. Yet, all he can do is stand there and pant like the dog he is.

“Daryl.” 

Lighter than a feather, her voice makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. His vision darkens at the edges as his focus narrows on the swell of her breasts. He can’t tell if it's sweat or water dripping down his neck as he watches her creep closer. The thick air around him hums with electricity; he feels her every step as it jolts his heart and pulses through his veins, the current moving in a southern direction. Daryl knows he should tell her to stop, but the words just won’t come out. 

“Say something,” she begs, stopping mere inches away, giving him a tantalizing peek down her shirt. The smirk is gone from her lips.

He racks his addled brain, but still can't find the words. There is only sensation. A constant pounding in his ears. Tension building in his muscles. An impulse quickening in his fingers to wander across those peaks and valleys. But he’s frozen and wound so tightly he feels ready to snap. And she's so close he can feel the heat pouring off her, even in those wet clothes. Her breath smells herbal. Chamomile, if he had to guess. It’s an inundation. He's consumed with thoughts of her. With _feelings_ for her. Memories of everything they’d been through together surge through him as he starts to panic and his desperate eyes finally latch onto hers to keep him from drowning.

There’s an ocean of kindness there and something else he doesn’t understand. Something profound. It shakes him to his core.

"It's okay," she says in a soothing tone, seeming to notice his discomfort. "I like the way you're looking at me. Don't stop." Carol places his hands on her hips, then her arms encircle his neck.

The feel of his fingers digging into her flesh stirs him awake, freeing him from his hypnotic trance. He lets out a puff of air, and it eases some of the pressure in his chest. It still burns where he’s touching her, but her reassurance helps, and the fog in his brain begins to lift. His panting, his racing heart, his breathlessness suddenly start to make sense. It isn’t fear he's feeling. It's _hunger._ Desire for his best friend, the one person he trusts most in this world. Daryl wants her so much he can hardly breathe, and she's giving him permission to touch her. 

His fingers twitch to life and rub against the smooth wet cotton before his hands instinctively begin to snake around her waist to press into the small of her back. Holding her against him, the feel of her in his arms begins to quell the growing ache inside him. “Carol,” he finally whispers in bewildered relief. It's the single coherent thought he can access. All the dots finally connect for him—she's the only thing he's been thinking about for months he realizes. Tension builds at his lips. He wants to say more, tell her everything, so he bows his head and kisses her soundly.

Her lips are soft as they move against his and Daryl feels her melting against the front of his body. His palms fill with her flesh as he holds her. It's more than an embrace; it's a goddamn revelation. Kissing Carol awakens him from a dreary, slumbering existence, brightening and expanding his world, making him feel more alive than he ever has in his entire life. 

She deepens the kiss, brushing her tongue against his, and everything he's feeling intensifies. His swirling emotions coalesce, transmuting chaos into elation, and he becomes joyously unrestrained as he returns her kiss, licking her, tasting her, gripping her more tightly to keep himself tethered. Engrossed by her luscious lips, by her strong arms tugging and constricting around him, by her fingers twining in his hair, it so surprises him when she pulls back that a pained expression erupts from the back of his throat at the lack of contact. He craves more.

“So, you wanna get out of these wet clothes?” she asks with a wicked grin that fills him with confidence.

Man, does he ever.

And it's like she can read his mind because she takes him by the hand and tows him inside. They make it as far as the kitchen before their hunger for one another takes over and they start kissing again. Water drips and pools at their feet as he pins her up against the island counter, needing to feel more of her heat.

Desire curls through his blood, spreading like fire in his veins. Her encouraging arms fan the flames, rubbing at the tension in his back, fueling his need to have her closer. To feel her skin against his.

Emboldened, he palms her breasts through her soaked blouse, his thumbs gliding over her stiff nipples as he gently squeezes them. Carol moans loudly, arching into his touch, and her throaty response sets off a tidal wave of sensation rippling beneath his skin. Intrigued to keep exploring, Daryl wants to spend the rest of the day—hell, for as long as she'll allow him to, quite frankly—touching her, discovering her, memorizing every detail about her. Somehow the rest of his life doesn't quite seem long enough to spend with her.

He pauses momentarily, drawing back. “Where’s Rick?” he asks, wondering if they were alone. He doesn't want an audience for what he plans to do with her.

“Rounds,” she replies and resumes kissing him.

“Carl?”

“Out making friends,” she murmurs against his lips. The vibration from her words heightens the thrilling tingle currently running down his neck. “Judith is taking a nap.”

Satisfied they had some privacy, he surrenders to her kisses once more. His fingers skirt the hem of her shirt, lifting it up to caress her soft skin and skate along the smooth plain of her back. Pulling the wet shirt over her head, he lets it fall to the ground with a plop, surveying the expanse of her creamy flesh, frowning when he realizes the view of her round breasts is still stubbornly hindered by her bra. It throws him off because it doesn't have hooks when he reaches around to unclasp it.

She must have seen the bewildered disappointment on his face, because she quickly lifts it over her head and discards it behind her. He goes a little weak in the knees, wholly in awe of her beauty, gaping at her bare breasts, admiring the elegant pattern of freckles which are painted across her skin. Dark and pink, her florid nipples jut out like majestic beacons from pale, perfect mounds, enticing him, commanding his attention, soliciting his touch. Daryl drags his fingertips across her water-cooled skin, marveling at how her breasts fit so completely in his hands. The feel of her downy flesh is so incredibly soft, far surpassing his imagination. She gasps at his touch and the smooth terrain of her skin breaks out into millions of tiny bumps. Awestricken by the sudden realization that his dearest friend is letting him touch her, revealing herself to him in this intimate way, his esteem for her increases, blossoming in his chest. Expansive and limitless. His gaze returns to her eyes; he is completely captivated by Carol. By her intricate layers. Her grace, strength, and courage are just the tip of the iceberg of what he admires about her.

Warmth floods his chest. Full of appreciation, Daryl embraces her with tenderness, kissing her deeply as he lifts her up and sets her on the countertop like she's a precious work of art.

Driven by the depth of his affection, his hands come up to cradle her face as he clings to her lips in a swell of unbridled emotion. His fingers take careful study as they caress her scalp and the tips of her ears before tracing the line of her jaw and the slender slope of her neck. One thumb nestles the hollow at the base of her throat where he feels her excited pulse, its beckoning rhythm luring him closer. Trailing kisses, Daryl’s lips follow the descending path of his hands which glide along the delicate ridges of her shoulders and sweep across her chest.

He worships her breasts, biting into her neck while Carol mewls in his ear, stoking his desire. Daryl regales himself with her milky skin which stretches before him like a banquet; his tongue maps a route along its exquisite surface past her collarbone and down between her breasts until his lips latch onto her nipple. He takes it into his mouth, laving his tongue over and around its pebbled peak, while he rolls the other one between his fingers. The taste of her skin floods his senses.

Crying out, she eagerly wraps her legs around him, drawing him towards her core, and he groans into her breast as her thigh grazes his erection. His hands shoot down to her hips, dragging her closer to press himself against her heat. _Fuck_ —the sensation is incredible, and he grinds himself against her again and again. Carol seems to enjoy his response, tightening her grip on his hair and muttering under her breath. The commanding ache in his groin grows more severe and his kisses more fervid until he’s completely overcome by the urgency of his desire. He lifts her off the counter and swiftly carries her into his room, kicking the door closed behind them with a bit too much force in his enthusiasm.

"Shhh!" she reproaches him as he’s crossing the room. "You'll wake the baby."

"Sorry." Daryl pauses mid-stride in his guilt. And for a moment, he flounders, staring into her eyes like a chasened puppy waiting for guidance. The last thing in the world he wants is Carol’s disapproval. 

When she kisses him again, it’s the encouragement he needs to continue the few remaining steps to the bed where he gently lays her down. Tangled around each other, they do an awkward shuffle on the mattress, lips fluttering, limbs lifting, bodies writhing on the sheets until they are both in the middle, her head resting on his pillow as he kneels between her legs. 

"Y'alright?" he inquires, making sure she's comfortable. Despite her passion—maybe even because of it—his anxiety is starting to climb. He can feel his blood throbbing in his ears. He doesn't want to screw this up.

She nods. The rosy glow on her cheeks makes her eyes appear to radiate a brighter blue than normal.

Struck by her beauty, her flawless complexion, he caresses her cheek with his thumb to verify she's real and not some fantastical creature he's imagined; Daryl tries but fails to catch his breath as he falters under her expectant gaze.

"Ain't done this in a long time," he admits as a nervous gush of energy bubbles inside him, warning her that he probably wasn't going to last very long.

"Me neither," says Carol with a small smile.

He gives her a serious look; unable to contain the fear of disappointing her, his grip on her tightens as he compels her to understand the gravity of the situation. "No, I mean it. Can't even remember the last time, I was so drunk. Shit, walkers weren't even a thing."

Carol's face softens as comprehension washes across her features. "It's okay," she assures him, raking her fingers through his hair, tugging at his locks. The resultant tingle across his scalp is soothing. "I just want to feel close to you."

He furrows his brow, still unsure it will be enough. That he will be.

"Do you want to stop?" she asks.

"No, I just—"

She kisses him, and without warning her hand cups the bulge below his belt, making him groan with how deftly she caresses him. It's impossible for him not to succumb to her touch, and— _hell, no_ —he doesn't want her to stop. It's too wonderful. He wants this. He wants her. _Fuck_. He drops his head onto her shoulder and draws in an uneven breath, reveling in the friction of her stroking. _God_ , she smells truly divine. And he loses track of the danger he's in for the briefest of moments, her touch is that overpowering. But then, she coaxes a whimper out of him, and he realizes that his resolve is rapidly crumbling. Moisture begins to weep from the head of his cock as he shudders reflexively.

The sensation has him reeling, and he suddenly tenses, finding the strength to remove her hand and pin it to the pillow beside her head, weaving his fingers between hers. "Just wanna last longer than thirty seconds," he finally continues with a deep growl, squeezing her hand, willing himself to stay focused. "But Christ, woman, if you keep that up I ain't gonna."

He kisses her hard to regain some semblance of control, realizing he needs to pick up the pace just to keep her wandering hands in check as his free hand madly rushes to palm her crotch in retaliation. The sweltering heat he discovers there makes his cock throb, and he curses under his breath. It’s like walking on a tightrope; one errant caress and he’s worried he’ll fall over the edge. _Concentrate_. Anxiously, he undoes her fly, desperate to turn the tables. Then he's dipping his hand into her jeans, diving underneath her panties until his fingers start to slide through her thick curls, and he begins exacting his revenge.

Carol squeals when he finds her flesh. _Holy sh_ — It’s unnerving, his discovery. She's so slick, his fingers glide easily back and forth through her wet folds, teasing her. She starts to breathe rapidly, short shallow bursts of warm air, tickling along his neck.

"Like that?" He asks low in her ear, noticing how she's starting to squirm. He needs to hear her confirm it.

There's a pause before she finally responds between labored breaths. "Yes. Very much."

Feeding off her hushed cries, he nibbles her earlobe as he strokes her, circling his finger through her center, relishing his newfound control. The scent of her musk quickly fills the room like a mist—sultry and sweet. Mouthwatering. His head starts to swim. He's not sure where to go from here. He just knows he wants to please her.

"Tell me what you want."

"I want—" she gasps, straining under his touch as he hovers over the tiny nub at the top of her slit. "I want—" He taps the nub gently, repeatedly, waiting for her response, feeling the tension building in her body. 

"I want you out of these wet clothes!" The words burst from her lips, surprising him with her request. It wasn't exactly what he was expecting. But before he can question her, she's already unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it away from his skin, offsetting his doubt. Removing his hand from her pants to assist her, he unbuttons the cuffs, letting her take off his shirt along with his leather vest.

They unzip her boots, and she kicks them off the foot of the bed along with her socks. Then he tugs at her pants and underwear to remove them.

Kneeling between her legs, he stares down at her pale, naked body in a bit of awe for what she had hidden beneath her clothes. Her mound was covered in dark hair. _The carpet don't match the drapes_. The random thought skitters through the dusty corners of his brain. It's something stupid his brother would say. But Daryl doesn't pay it any mind because he's completely enamored with her.

"Daryl," she says with a hint of alarm in her voice, dispelling his rapture. "Hurry up."

"Right." 

A chill runs the course of his spine as he unfastens his belt and takes off his jeans, but his skin quickly warms as he lay beside her. 

Lying skin to skin, they both sigh, finally freed from their uncomfortable burden. This is _definitely_ better, Daryl observes, drinking her in. She turns to face him, her gentle fingers splaying across his chest. Gazing into her wide eyes, he realizes how close they are to changing their relationship forever.

He chews his bottom lip. "You sure about this?" There is still a lingering doubt that she’ll come to her senses and change her mind. He needs her absolute certainty. To hear her say it aloud.

She edges closer to him, her fingers moving up to sweep the hair from his eyes, and another cool tingle erupts along his scalp above his ear. "Yes, I'm sure," she asserts, kissing his forehead. "Are you?"

He smiles broadly, catching her lips with his own as relief stirs in his blood. "Ain't never been more sure about anything my whole life. Now, where were we?"

His fingers find the fleshy nub between her legs again, knowing it held the key to her pleasure. He may have been rusty, but he wasn't an idiot. 

Carol moans as he caresses her.

"That's it," he coaxes her. "I wanna hear you." He bows his head to suck her nipple into his mouth, feeling her skin hum under his tongue as he continues thumbing her clit. "Go on, tell me."

Her voice is airy when she finally speaks. "Ohhh! Just... like... that."

Slowing the pace, he draws another circle around her bundle of nerves, noticing it swell beneath his touch. "This here?"

"Yes! God! Don't stop!"

He chuckles against her neck. "Yes, ma'am."

His tongue brushes along her ear as he nips at her earlobe. He varies the pressure of his thumb while his other fingers slide through her folds, listening to the subtle changes in her breathing.

"Daryl," she finally pleads. "I want you inside me."

Obliging her, he pushes one finger inside her, exploring her, feeling her walls clench around him. She calls out, digging her nails into his back.

"Like that?" He asks, kissing her neck.

"Mmm hmm. More," she begs him.

He plunges another finger into her core, palming her mound as he twists and curves them inside her wet warmth.

Her breath stutters and grows ragged. "Yes! More!" 

Daryl slides his fingers in and out of her wetness, feeling her gripping him more tightly.

"More!" she demands, taking his face in her hands to glare at him. Her pupils are blown wide. Desperate. "I need all of you inside me."

Her leg hitches over his hip as she thrusts her heat towards his pelvis, sliding against the length of him. "Daryl, please," she begs as he continues to tease her flesh.

It’s the note of anguish in her pleading voice that triggers him to act. Pulling his fingers from her, he lubricates the head of his throbbing cock with her wetness and guides it towards her entrance. As his eyes lock onto hers, Daryl pushes through her dense heat in a single thrust, seating himself inside her with a grunt. Carol cries out as he fills her, her walls contracting around him. He stills, resting his forehead against hers while his heart pummels the inside of his chest. The tight, delicious feel of her squeezing around him was almost too much.

"Shit," he curses, hoping to delay the inevitable. "You feel so goddamn good. I can't even—"

"Just breathe. It's okay."

"You say that now, but—"

"Daryl, look at me."

His eyes meet hers reluctantly. With a gentle swipe of her fingers, she brushes the hair from his eyes again. "It's okay. You're supposed to feel good."

And he does. It's the most amazing, warm sensation, being inside her. Being held by her. He wants to stay right where they are forever where he knows he can never let her down. He knows it’s futile. Impossible. And he realizes he’s stalling again. He smiles apologetically, caressing her skin just below her hip. "Just want you to be happy."

Her eyes glisten as she touches him tenderly along his cheek, easing the tension in his jaw. "I know. And I love you for that."

His heartbeat strengthens in his chest. "What?"

"You heard me. I love you."

The sound of her voice amplifies his arousal and his cock lurches, propelling him deeper into her warm depths. He kisses her, his hand clutching her thigh just above her knee, then growls in her ear, "Say it again."

Her smile is absolutely flawless. "I love you, Daryl Dixon." 

He feels alive with sensation. With his confidence bolstered, he slowly begins to move his hips, lifting her leg to thrust deeper with each stroke, encouraged by the wordless moans that stream from her lips and the way she’s grabbing his ass and gripping his cock with her muscles, knowing he's making her feel good too. That they are sharing this perfect moment together.

Smoothly and steadily, they savor each other; the flow of kisses, soft and plentiful. And for a moment, it feels like time itself has stopped as they melt together and reform into something new.

Daryl can feel her everywhere, moving with him. She's surrounding him so completely, her walls tightening as he pushes deeper and deeper. He has never felt this close to anyone, so vulnerable and safe. He knows there will never be anyone else; he's too head over feet in love with this woman. Carol is extraordinary. There's no one else like her. There never will be. Climbing and cresting, his emotions swell. Being with her, inside her, loved by her, feels absolutely incredible. Phenomenal. An exalted moan bursts forth from his lips as he slips back into her warmth. Despite his determination, he feels his balls constrict, the energy coiling at the base of his spine, and he quickly loses control. Pleasure shoots through him like a bolt of lightning and he seizes abruptly, pouring into her with a guttural groan.

"Fuck," he laments when the feeling of ecstasy starts to subside only to be replaced with mounting guilt for his quick finish. "Shit. M'sorry." He kisses her to make sure she knows how much.

"I'm not." Carol tightens her arms around him. "That was definitely overdue." 

"I love you," she whispers again in his ear, soothing him.

His energy rapidly wanes. Trying to hold onto the remnants of his bliss, he folds her in his arms and nuzzles into her neck. Warm and content, with the comforting scent of her filling his lungs, Daryl is overcome by a deep sense of peace. Unfortunately, he’s unable to resist the overpowering urge to sleep. 

When he comes to a few moments later, Carol is staring at him patiently and his cheeks burn with shame; he'd been too consumed by his own satisfaction.

He's about to apologize again for dozing off like a thoughtless brute when she kisses him. The taste of her lips pulls his attention away from his regrets. And then he realizes how he can make it up to her.

Daryl kisses his way down her body until he's nestled between her legs. Looping his arms around her thighs, he spreads her open, taking in the glistening splendor of her tender flesh. The musky scent of her makes him salivate in anticipation of the feast that lay before him. Gently, he licks his tongue across her honeyed folds, tasting himself on her, noticing her reaction with each change in pressure. She's cursing and cooing, surrendering under his meticulous care. Then he envelops her clit between his lips and sucks lightly at first to see how she responds. Her fingers grip at the sheets and his hair as she flexes her hips into his face, and he takes it as a sign she wants more and sucks a little harder, slipping his fingers into her soft center until she comes, screaming his name. When he lifts his head, he notices her flushed cheeks and the relaxed smile that spans her ears. She looks so damn gorgeous sprawled across his bed that his heart flutters. She has always been beautiful, but right now she is luminous.

"Wow! I've never felt anything quite that _intense_ before," Carol confesses after catching her breath. 

"Really?" His pride swells in his chest and the corner of his lips kicks up. "Want me to do it again?"

Her face brightens, her eyes blazing with blue fire. "Yes, please."

His smile turns roguish as he lays a filthy kiss on her mouth before bowing his head between her thighs once more. This time, he hooks her legs over his shoulders, lifting her to his mouth as he devours her so he can watch her squirm and squeal in her delight. 

The sound of her reveling in her pleasure arouses him, knowing he's the one causing it. Her juices ooze down his chin as she spasms around his tongue, his heart pounding in his chest excitedly with how quickly he's able to get her there this time around. When it comes to orgasms, he's always been more of the one-and-done type. So it astonishes him quite a bit to realize he's ready and wanting to be inside her again. "Christ, Carol!" he exclaims as he releases her, trying to comprehend what was happening to him. His desire for her is endless; Daryl has never wanted anyone the way that he wants her.

Once upon a time, he thought he could withstand her. But he hadn’t understood what she was: a goddamn wrecking ball. His walls never stood a chance.

He slides easily inside her, sighing at the welcoming feel of her wet warmth. This time, he's determined to last longer. The pace he sets is more vigorous and decisive than before, more certain now that he knows he can satisfy her.

Rocking her hips, Carol meets every thrust as he pounds into her. Daryl relishes how perfectly their flesh comes together and the vulgar words that pour from her pretty mouth. Inspired and motivated, he experiments with his position, finding just the right angle to grind against her clit as he pushes inside her, feeling her clenching around him every time he does so until her walls begin to tremor around him. When she cries out her release, Daryl feels his victory flooding his cock. He watches her face, memorizing the way she looks. Open. Glowing. Free. A few more strokes and he's tumbling off that edge with her into paradise. They rock together a couple more times, milking every last bit of bliss from their union before he's kissing her lazily and staring into her sparkling eyes, truly, madly, completely in love.

A few heaving breaths later, he pulls out and rolls onto his back. "Fuck," he curses because there are no other words to adequately describe what he's feeling right now. She has destroyed him in the most spectacular way.

Carol props herself up on her elbow, drawing a line down the center of his sweaty chest with her finger as she peers down at him. "Feeling better?"

He grins uncontrollably as her touch sets off a pleasant tingle along his cooling skin. "How could I not?"

She laughs with him, and it's natural and easy between them. He realizes that she's not wearing the mask anymore. And he promises himself, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it from coming back.

He rolls towards her. "And you?" he asks, brushing his thumb along the crease at the edge of her smile.

"Pretty good."

His brow contracts. "Pretty good? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Definitely good," she clarifies, emphasizing her certainty.

"Just good?"

Carol beams a brilliant smile. "Consider my mind blown."

He kisses her neck, a hum of agreement rumbling in his throat. "Sounds more like it."

"You rocked my world."

Easing back, resting his head in his hand, he gazes at her with joyful adoration. "Same."

She chuckles, shaking her head. "I turned your world upside down,” she brags. “Admit it."

It's true. Been true from the moment he met her. He suppresses the smile on his face. "Ain't admittin’ nothin'," he teases. "You got no evidence."

Her mouth flies open and she pushes at his shoulder. Surrendering, he falls back onto the pillow, grinning like a fool as he pulls her closer.

As she’s giggling into his neck, pure elation overwhelms him. It’s the happiest Daryl has ever felt. He's never been in love before, and this light, euphoric vitality coursing through his soul is new. Transformative. He can’t even remember why his mood was so sour earlier. Or why it has taken so long for them to get here. It just feels so right. 

Squeezing his arms around Carol, he lies quietly beside her for a while, soaking it in.

"Shit, we shoulda been doin' this all along," he declares with sudden insight, kissing the crown of her head.

"Took you long enough to reach that conclusion."

A blush warms his cheeks. The truth is a little embarrassing, so he stays buried in her hair, drawing comfort from the silky feel of it against his lips. "Back at the prison," he begins thoughtfully, then pauses. So much has happened since then.

"Yeah?"

"When we were on that bus?"

Looking up, she smiles fondly, and he knows she's also recalling her proposition for them to fool around and how she had laughed off his rejection.

"Yeah?"

"Thought you were jokin'."

"Oh?"

"Mm hmm." He rubs her back and leans closer. "Just wanted to clarify. For the record."

"Because if you knew I was serious, then what?”

"Wouldn't have made you wait so damn long."

“Wait—” She shifts beside him, propping herself up on her elbow and poking her finger into his chest. “So, you’re saying my delivery was off?"

He nods as Carol gently draws her fingertip in a line down his chest.

“That it was my fault you made me wait so long?”

He nods again, his skin tingling as her finger traverses the dark line of hair below his navel, then he sucks in a breath as her finger keeps slinking further south over his sensitive flesh, stopping just beneath his balls. He swallows, rethinking his decision to tease her.

Memories of their lovemaking flash in his mind, and he realizes he wants to do it all over again. Very soon.

“Well, I mean,” he says indulgently, “I may have been somewhat of a challenge.”

She circles his balls with her finger, and he feels himself harden. “Somewhat?”

A sly smirk pushes at one side of his mouth. “Maybe I was a little stubborn.”

“A _little_ stubborn?”

“Hell, if I was easy and had gotten everything right, you’d’ve probably gotten bored. Admit it. You like a challenge.”

She looks down at his rock solid cock and then back at him. “So, when did you go from being a challenge to being easy?”

“Hey!” he exclaims, trying to sound offended.

In one swift motion, he flips her onto her back, trapping her beneath him as she wriggles in vain trying to escape. Laughter dies on her lips as he nibbles her earlobe and rubs his cock against her slick pussy, seeking entrance. Acquiescing, she spreads her thighs, lifting her hips, letting him push so deep inside her that her eyes roll back. Both heave a sigh of relief at their reunion. “Musta been when I was buried up in here,” he grunts in her ear, pulling back slowly and then slamming back into her heat. “You ruined me.” Despite all his resistance, she had changed him, and he knows he’s better for it. He can't imagine his life without her.

Daryl clings to her like he’s afraid she’ll slip through his fingers. When he kisses her, she opens further, digging her heels into his ass, driving him in deeper still. 

“And you...were worried... you wouldn’t... satisfy... me,” she gasps between his frantic thrusts, her nails raking across his back, sinking into his skin, holding onto him like she’ll never let him go, either.

He fucks her through her orgasm, and then lets go. “Guess I underestimated myself,” he says, panting into her neck.

Kissing her slowly, he grows soft inside her before he finally relaxes onto his back.

They lay there in silence for a while, catching their breath. Then, Carol reaches for his hand, giving it a squeeze. He turns towards her to gaze in her eyes, letting his other hand aimlessly wander over her skin and play with her hair. Completely enchanted, they watch each other just breathe.

Upstairs, as if on cue, Judith opens her lungs and begins to wail.

Breaking the spell, Carol sits up with tousled hair that’s sticking up haphazardly in an extremely gratifying way. “I better go get her.”

“Nah,” Daryl says, pulling her down for a kiss. She looks so serene and content, he wants to make sure she stays that way. “Don’tcha dare get outta this bed. I got her.”

She watches him walk to the dresser and open it. “So...you’re just gonna hold me captive?”

“Not exactly,” he replies with a chuckle, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and putting them on. “But now you’re givin’ me ideas.”

“What if I have to pee?” she asks, her hand on her hip.

Leaning over, he kisses her firmly, waiting until her head relaxes onto the pillow before releasing her lips. “Whatever. As long as you’re here when I get back.”

Daryl makes his way upstairs to the nursery where Judith is standing, red-faced, in the crib, holding onto the bars, crying her eyes out. When she sees him, her hand stretches out to him desperately. “We hear you Jude. Christ, baby girl, what’s all the fuss?” he asks softly as he reaches in and picks her up out of the crib. He gives her diaper a sniff, then almost gags from the odor. “Phew! Think I figured out your complaint.”

Bringing her to the changing table, he quickly removes her dirty diaper and tosses it into the diaper pail, careful to close the lid to trap the offending odor in. Judith’s mood changes the moment she’s free of the mess, grabbing her toes and smiling at him as he wipes her bottom clean and tosses the dirty wipes into the pail. 

“There you go, sweetheart. Betcha can’t wait ‘til you’re potty trained, huh? No more toxic waste dumps.”

“Da-wo-wo!” Judith shrieks in delight, reaching for his face.

“That’s me. Uncle Daryl.” He smiles, letting her play with the scruff on his face as he puts a clean diaper on her.

“Da-wo-wo,” she repeats, then prattles on, telling him an entire story of nonsense.

“You don’t say,” he replies playfully, pulling her dress down, covering her diaper. “Any chance you wanna return to your siesta, princess, and cut your Uncle Daryl a break?"

“Ca-do-ba-dee!” she sings, reaching her arms up eagerly, ready for pick up.

He frowns. “Yeah, I figured it was too much to ask for. You’re probably gonna want a little snack, huh?” Picking her up, he carries her out of the room and down into the kitchen while she drools on his shoulder.

As soon as he walks in, he’s confronted by the mess that he and Carol had made earlier.

“Oops!” he says, noticing the extent of the muddy trail they left behind.

“Oops!” Judith echoes.

“Shhh! Keep it down, kiddo, or we’ll get in trouble.”

“Someone keeping secrets?” Carol calls from the hallway, right behind him.

He looks up as she enters the kitchen, disappointed when he sees she’s fully dressed again in dry clothing.

“Uh-oh, busted,” he whispers to Judith as he’s fastening her into the high chair. He turns to Carol with a sheepish grin. "Sorry about the floor."

She glances at the pool of water and mud smeared on the floor, then flashes him her flawless smile and shrugs. "It was worth it."

“What are you doin’ out here?” he asks, walking towards her on his way to the sink, tugging at her clothes with a frown. “Thought I told you to stay in bed. Hmm?” His arms snake around her waist, and he pulls her in for another kiss before she can respond.

“I heard you talking to Judith and I couldn’t resist,” she says when he pulls away. “You’re so good with her. I like watching you together.” She smiles. “Besides, now that she’s up, I think your nefarious plans will have to wait.”

He draws his brow down into a frustrated scowl, turning his head towards the baby. “Cockblocker!” 

“Ko-ko-bo-ko!” she burbles, banging her hands excitedly on the tray of her high chair.

Carol slaps him playfully on the arm. “Daryl!”

He grabs her ass and gives it a squeeze, making her jump. “What? You sayin’ she ain’t?”

She rolls her eyes at him and gently pushes him away. “You’re ridiculous.”

Grinning agreeably, he walks backwards to the sink to wash his hands.

When he finishes, Carol has gathered her wet clothing. “Looks like you have a handle on things in here. Guess I’ll go do some laundry.”

“You’re leavin’?” he asks, crestfallen.

“I’’ll be back,” she assures him, pecking his lips before walking out of the room. "I wanna see that floor gleaming."

Grumbling to himself over the additional chore, Daryl heats Judith’s food and is just beginning to feed her, when Rick walks in the kitchen door. “Daddy’s home!” Daryl calls out in relief.

“Da-da-da-da-da-da!” Judith chants with glee, pounding on her tray, her shining face covered in green goo.

“What happened here?” Rick asks immediately, staring at the floor and motioning to the soggy lawn outside.

Daryl clears his throat. “Nothin’ to worry about. Just a little argument between friends,” he says, giving Judith another spoonful of mashed peas, trying harder to get most of it into her mouth. Anything to keep from looking at Rick, who was giving him the once-over. He chides himself for lacking the foresight to at least put on a shirt.

“How’s the other guy?” Ricks inquires, his lips hinting at a smile.

“She’s fine.”

“Lover’s quarrel?”

Daryl glares at the man. It's obvious Rick is trying not to laugh. “Hush, now,” Daryl growls, failing to keep a smile from creeping onto his own face.

“Guess she finally got what she wanted.”

“Huh?” He nearly does a double take, wondering if Rick really knew how accurate he was.

“You finally took a shower. Or from the look of it," Rick teases, glancing down at the wet floor and then back at Daryl, "she gave you one.”

"More like." Daryl turns back to his task, hiding the blush burning on his cheeks.

After giving Judith the last of the peas, he takes a damp dishcloth and wipes her hands and face clean.

Rick unfastens her while Daryl cleans the rag in the sink. “Come on, let’s get out of Uncle Daryl’s hair, shall we? Looks like he’s got some cleanin’ to do.”

Judith gurgles and coos in delight as she’s lifted from the chair.

Daryl sighs, wringing out the dishcloth. “Sure, go have fun while I do all the dirty work,” he grumbles as Rick walks away with Judith. “It’s not like I don’t got somewhere else I’d rather be.”

He wipes down Judith’s eating area. When he’s done, he glances at the floor. It’s not a complete disaster as far as he’s concerned; there’s still plenty of unmarked white tile showing. He’s seen worse, slept on worse, even, but he knows it’s important to Carol. Maybe it’s actually having a home again to take care of, he’s not really sure of her reasons. But it makes him think this place—Alexandria—will be good for them. For all of them.

Taking the bucket from under the sink, he adds a little cleaner to it before filling it with water. While the bucket is filling, he grabs the mop from the closet. After turning off the tap, he sets the bucket on the floor and sticks the mop in to wet it. As he starts mopping the floor, the memories of passionately kissing Carol against the countertop replay in his mind. He’s grinning like a fool again when Aaron knocks on the door and opens it.

“Watch it! I just cleaned that,” he warned Aaron before he stepped on the wet floor.

“Sorry,” Aaron says, pausing at the threshold, somewhat flustered, eyes politely skipping over Daryl’s bare chest to meet his eyes. “It’s nice to see you’re settling into domestic life.” He smiles amicably.

Daryl grunts an acknowledgment, realizing he has, and continues mopping.

“I just came by to see if you could help me.”

Looking up, Daryl frowns, feeling a little conflicted. While he likes to feel useful, he doesn’t want anything to further derail his plans of spending the afternoon with Carol. “You couldn’t find anyone else?”

“You seem to know your way around an engine in a way most folks don’t. I was hoping you could take a look at the truck with me. There’s a team setting out tomorrow and I just want to make sure there aren’t any problems.”

Daryl hesitates, scratching at his neck, but he knows he can’t let his feelings interfere with a run when people’s lives are at stake. “Alright. Lemme go tell Carol not to expect me for dinner.”

Aaron nods, glancing at the newly cleaned floor. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

When he finishes mopping, Daryl empties the bucket and puts everything away. Then, after stopping by his room to change into a more appropriate outfit and put on his boots, he goes to find Carol.

She’s still in the laundry room, pressing one of his shirts. He’s been telling her since they met that he doesn’t care if his shirts are wrinkled. But she always ignores him and does what she wants. A few of them are hanging on the hook beside her, freshly ironed. Seeing them, he admits to himself that they do look a hell of a lot nicer without the wrinkles. It makes him smile. And he lurks in the doorway, watching her work, with gratitude warming in his chest for all the small ways she’s made his life better.

Carol turns her head, catching him staring at her and smiles, pausing her work. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Long enough to realize how much I appreciate you,” he says, sauntering towards her.

He waits for her to set the iron down before he wraps his arms around her waist.

“I appreciate you, too.” Her hands reach up to grasp his face as she stretches on her toes to kiss him.

Daryl pulls back with a groan before he lets himself get too caught up in her lips.

“I wanna appreciate you all day, but I gotta head to Aaron’s.”

Her face crumples. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. He just needs some help preparin’ for the run tomorrow. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He kisses her again, letting himself linger a little longer this time before releasing her. “Shoulda never gotten outta that damn bed.” 

“Come find me when you get back.” 

“Oh, you can count on it.” He gives her ass a playful slap to reinforce his determination, then leaves to meet up with Aaron.

A few hours later, grimy and exhausted, Daryl drags himself back to the house. It's dark, and he realizes everyone is probably asleep. His muscles ache so badly, he just wants to crawl into bed beside Carol and fall asleep with his face buried in her scent. But he’s hungry. It has been such a busy day, he realizes he hasn’t eaten since this morning. When he opens the fridge looking for something to eat, he finds a dinner plate Carol saved for him and that warm bubble of gratitude rises again in his chest. He's too tired to bother reheating it, so he stands there with his back against the counter and eats it cold. He doesn't care; it tastes delicious anyway. 

After he’s finished, he puts the plate in the dishwasher. It’s nearly full, so he adds the detergent and starts the wash cycle before heading towards his room.

He glances inside, hoping to see Carol asleep in his bed. But sadly, it's empty. _Shit_.

Sighing, he creeps up the stairs, past Rick's room, down the hall to the last door on the left. It's closed, but there's light emanating from the cracks, so he knocks.

"Come in," Carol calls.

He opens the door, feeling pleased when he sees her beaming back at him from between the pages of the book she’s been reading. And his heart skips a beat.

“Missed you.” 

He knows the words are silly because he hasn’t been gone terribly long. But the sentiment is true. Being apart from her has never been easy, but today it just seemed far worse.

As he gets closer, her smile fades into a look of displeasure as she sets down her book on the nightstand. "What on earth have you gotten into?"

"Helped Aaron fix an oil leak on the truck. There's a group headin' out tomorrow and he wanted to make sure it didn't break down on them." He flops down on the bed beside her.

"Look, Daryl, I know you've had a busy afternoon, but you're not climbing into this bed looking like that."

He sighs heavily, just wanting to pass out. He's not really in the mood to argue, but understands now that there's a different sort of heat flickering between them, like glowing embers from a fire that will never burn out. "You gonna come after me with the damn hose again if I don't?"

She smirks with flushed cheeks, betraying evidence she's having the same thoughts he's been having all afternoon. "It's just a shower, Daryl."

Daryl takes her hand, bringing it to his lips. Her skin is so fair, it’s nearly translucent. It feels warm against his lips. "Why don’t you,” he begins, kissing the inside of her delicate wrist, “come with me.” He presses another kiss to her forearm. “Make sure I do it right."

“You want supervision?”

He tilts his head. “Demonstration, more like.” 

Pressing his lips to the crook of her elbow, he flicks his tongue across her skin, feeling her quiver in response.

"Well, when you put it like that…"

They slip down the hall to the bathroom, giggling like naughty children as they lock the door behind them. Daryl sits on the toilet to take off his boots while Carol starts the shower. Steam begins to fill the room. Perhaps it’s the heat ticking up in the room along with the sound of running water—or maybe it’s the just simple fact that Carol is here with him—but he feels the tension in his body begin to unravel. After grabbing a couple of towels from the closet, he watches with a thrill as Carol promptly lifts her cotton nightgown over her head and places it on the vanity before stepping into the shower. 

She stands in the stream of water wearing nothing but what God gave her and an impish grin on her face that tells him she's gonna give him _exactly_ what he asked for. Leaning her head back to wet her hair, she runs her fingers through her silver strands, posing like a shampoo model. In that singular moment, Daryl Dixon knows without a doubt that he's the luckiest son of a bitch who ever lived. Inside him, those smoldering embers begin to catch and ignite as Daryl stands with a lustful gaze, observing the water hitting her bare skin, admiring the way it cascades down her breasts, mesmerized by the tiny droplets which cling to her nipples before plummeting to the floor. Carol takes his breath away. He files the image of her in his brain, naked—shameless—etches it into the back of his eyes.

"Hurry up," she insists, picking up the bar of soap. “You’re wasting hot water.”

Daryl sheds his dirty clothes as fast as he can to take his place beside her. The hot water feels fantastic, helping his aching muscles continue to relax, and he sighs with profound relief.

"Here, let me help," Carol says, lathering the soap in her hands. "Turn around."

Her merciful hands work magic as she massages the soap onto his back, pressing at the tight spot between his shoulders until it gives way. Daryl grunts in response. "Showerin' never felt so good before," he says, glancing over his shoulder, his eyes growing dark as they meander brazenly across her naked flesh. A slow grin widens on his face as he remembers precisely how that flesh felt under his fingers and lips. "Now I see the appeal."

Turning around, he reaches for the curve of her hip, pulling her closer, meeting her under the steaming spray to kiss her. "Consider me reformed."

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to AlannasTara for helping to make this better. And to kaoscraze82 for proofreading.
> 
> Happy Solstice, anon!


End file.
